


Shut The Fuck Up

by Trickster_PyroAries



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Language, M/M, No Sex, Violence, gamzee makara - Freeform, i might do a pt two if this goes well, it's literally just them having a slight brawl, minimal fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_PyroAries/pseuds/Trickster_PyroAries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave pisses Karkat off and the two end up in a compromising position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Get it All Out](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/20248) by n4ut. 



> based on n4ut’s headcanon that Dave took emotional abuse from his Bro when Bro would come home pissed off, so when Karkat attacks him, he just takes it, because it’s all he knows. Going with that headcanon, I figured Dave would flip shit if somebody were to talk shit about his Bro, especially Karkat.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” 

Karkat’s brows were furrowed and his voice quivered with anger. He grabbed Dave’s collar and roughly pulled him forward, cutting Dave’s cheekbone and knocking his shades off in the process. 

Blood trickled down Dave’s face and dripped onto Karkat’s floor. Dave looked down at nothing in particular in an attempt to avoid looking into Karkat’s eyes. A rush of nostalgia and melancholy washed over him. Dave knew that Karkat was pent up and stressed out, and it was probably his fault in some way. And even if it wasn’t…

Dave’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally spoke, “Get it all out.”

Karkat scrunched his nose in disbelief and all but exploded, “WHAT?”

“Get…get it all out,” Dave repeated.

Karkat grit his teeth before manhandling Dave across the room, pinning him against a wall, decorated with posters of Troll Will Smith. 

He pulled Dave forward, barely an inch from his face and studied him; Dave’s copper skin contrasted well with his brilliant blond hair and it softened his shocking red eyes.

“I fucking HATE-” Karkat slammed Dave into the wall for emphasis, “-your masochistic, fucked up think pan.” 

Dave remained motionless, allowing Karkat to vent. He was the only one who talked to him much anymore anyway, and Dave had grown fond of his unusual company. However, there were some… communication issues between the two that almost always were full of vulgar and xenophobic insults. This time it elevated to physical contact and for Dave, it brought back memories of his Bro.

“I’m used to this,” Dave admitted.

Karkat frowned, “Look at me.” It was a surprise to Karkat when Dave actually listened to him, and it made Karkat sick to his stomach. 

“I am OFFICALLY crashing your obnoxious pity party. Let me tell you a fucking secret, Strider; you’re not the only one who has experienced some fucked up things! At least your friends are still alive, in whatever way alive is, but _HALF OF MINE ARE FUCKING DEAD_.”

Dave looked down again and repeated for a third time, “Since you don’t have your moirail around... just…. Just get it all out.”

Karkat snarled and shook Dave with each word he harshly uttered, “ ** _SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!_** ” 

Dave felt his throat run dry, a lump forming in it. His eyes burned as he fought back tears. He knew the time he spent not crying over Bro’s death was doomed to catch up to him, but he was hell-bent on this not being said time.

Karkat continued, “Have you been pulling on my goddamn horns just to get me to vent? Is that what in the ever-loving fuck is going on here? Well call me the goddamn postal delivery service, here to deliver you a letter that reads, “Stay the fuck out of my business,” sealed with massive FUCK. YOU.” 

Dave shrugged, a despondent look on his face. He swallowed dryly, “My bad.”

Karkat let out a guttural noise, all but growling at Dave.

“I don’t fucking understand you! One fucking moment you’re acting like some fucking king of raps and irony, spouting off remarks without actually giving a shit to how other people feel, and the next you’re taking a verbal beating with some minimal contact. I don’t fucking belie—”

“—I miss him,” Dave cut him off.

Karkat rolled his eyes, “Hold the fucking talk box. This attitude is about missing your custodian? The human lusus that raised you; that would beat the shit out of you for the sake of practice, or just to vent from a long day away from home?”

“Bro. My bro. And for your information, _Vantas_ ,” Dave narrowed his eyes, “Our relationship was _different_.” 

“Oh, FOR-FUCKING-GIVE me for insulting your _precious_ fucking _relationship_. He must have been some goddamn sufferer, your _Bro_!”

Dave abruptly silenced Karkat by throwing him down to the floor, consequently knocking the wind out of him. He straddled Karkat’s body; one hand on the troll’s shoulder and the other clenched in a fist and pulled back, ready to punch the troll-boy in his face. 

_“Kick me all you fucking like, but don’t _ever_ spit shit about my Bro.” _

“F…fuck you,” Karkat wheezed, “Fuck you and fuck your _ironic_ relationship with your human lusus.” 

Karkat bucked his hips upward, causing Dave to lose his balance and fall on top of him. Dave quickly placed his hands on either side of Karkat and pushed himself upward, only to fall right back onto Karkat. 

“What the fuck?” Dave muttered. 

Karkat scoffed, his eyes flicking downward. Dave followed his gaze, just barely able to see that Karkat had Dave’s cape clenched around his fists. The gears in Dave’s head began working in overdrive. Karkat was holding Dave down. Karkat was _keeping_ him in their compromising position. Dave flushed, aware that Karkat’s heartbeat was very rapid, and that beneath his stupid, grey sweater was a tone, muscular body. 

Dave pushed himself up again, but to no avail. Karkat lied beneath him, frowning, and still clutching the god-like material. Dave wanted to abscond before things escalated, so he figured he’d take the more surprising route. 

Dave leaned his body into Karkat’s and whispered into the troll’s ears, “Dude, _I want to get off you_.” 

As soon as the words left Dave’s mouth, a blush spread across Karkat’s face and he released his grip. In a flash, Dave pushed himself away from Karkat, picked up his shades, and slid them back in place. 

Karkat propped himself upward onto his elbows, still tossing Dave’s words around in his head. Dave waltzed over to Karkat and leaned over him, a smirk played across his face; much to Karkat’s ignorance, it was for show. 

Dave turned on his heel and casually sauntered toward the door, trying to maintain his cool. Karkat sat there dumbfounded, his mind desperately trying to figure out what to make of Dave’s advancement. 

Dave looked back at Karkat, “You’re a fucking tool, _Vantas_.” 

With that, Dave made a beeline toward his room, a tinge of red spread across his face. He had been on top of Karkat in a most compromising position and _he had wanted more_. Dave entered his room, flopped down on his bed, and closed his eyes. 

Just as Dave was held up in his room dealing with his sentiments, Karkat dealt with his own. He leaned against the wall, his head into his forearm. His other hand covered his mouth, muffling a string of curses. The fact that Dave went outside his code of “no quadrants” made Karkat want to cry, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or something else. Perhaps, though, the thing that made Karkat want to cry the most was that Dave had provided him more relief than Dave would possibly ever know. 


	2. Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee has withdrawal... and cravings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter wasn't planned, but I drew from my inner self and created this piece of poop, and it's actually going to work well and make the next chapter that much better.

Sopor withdrawal was a motherfucker. It drove him insane, quite literally. He murdered those he considered the equivalent of “Earth Friends”, and the worst part wasn’t the actual dope sickness he went through, but the motherfucking cravings he found himself having for the shit. 

There was nothing he could do to stop them. The only successful way of mitigating his anger was through the spiritual guidance of The Merciful Messiahs and their promise of a miracle. 

The Earth plant, “Pot," that he had heard so much about through the vents, while it did have a calming effect like Sopor, had almost zero withdrawal effects. In summary, there were no fits of rage in the withdrawal or cravings to drive him insane. Gamzee, after judging for himself through his time-traveling shenanigans, decided that Sopor and Pot were not synonymous.

On occasion, the cravings would get too intense and influence his dreams, and the motherfucking chuckle voodoo’s would whisk him away into murder mode in said dreams. Flashbacks of clubbing a cowering cat girl to death would send Gamzee into a fit of self-loathing and blood-lust. Over and over, he would smash her skull in, and her screams would echo tenfold in surround sound. Likewise, there would always be a cracking sound when her skull gave way, yet instead of green blood pouring out, it would always be his purple high-blood blood. It was his blood. And he would touch his head with his hand, pull it back, and his hand would be engulfed in purple, while he’d watch a billion dead Nepetas turn into him. 

It was always him, all along. 

Nepeta. She really did get an easy death, contrary to his dreams. It was short and sweet, out of pity for her and out of respect for keeping the bodies as preserved as possible. 

But she _deserved it_. She attacked him first. And Gamzee knew first hand how dangerous Nepeta could be, contrary to that fat bitch’s opinions on Nepeta’s frailty. All in all, the murder, while it had been warranted and necessary at the time, still drove him into a state of regret and frustration.

And it was all Karkat’s fault he felt that way, anyway. Gamzee had always envied Karkat’s ability to be vulgar and angry-sounding, while still showing an acute amount of legitimate concern for everybody. Gamzee on the other hand, well, he was just a stoned clown-troll who nobody took too seriously. Perhaps it was for the best though…

Gamzee was blessed, or perhaps cursed, like Sollux. Except, unlike Sollux’s incredibly bipolar moods, Gamzee had multiple personalities. Two others, plus his own, and without that fucking Sopor…. 

And fucking Dave….

After witnessing Dave beat Karkat into submission, Gamzee’s intense desire to murder spiked. Sure, he wanted the Sopor too, but it was awful for him. The withdrawal was terrible. Even though Karkat had insisted that Sopor had been good for Gamzee, it was against troll society to eat it. And The Merciful Messiah’s required him to be sober for their upcoming miracle. He refused to disappoint them.

Except, Gamzee didn’t want to disappoint himself anymore. Being a “Junkie” was the worst of the worst.

Except, sometimes, he really did paint the walls with his blood, relieving the cravings. The cravings for fulfilling his Grand High Blood’s role as a subjuggulator. Or perhaps they were cravings for the Sopor. Regardless….

No. He knew better. He knew that they were lies. The Sopor was quite literally his crutch.  
Karkat too…

But mother fucking Dave! Gamzee’s blood boiled thinking about the way Dave had knocked Karkat around. Physically and mentally. If there was one thing Gamzee emphasized with, it was emotional distress. And seeing his probably-former moirail sobbing into his sleeves was enough to break the cherubs back. 

Gamzee wanted to pluck Dave’s motherfucking red eyes from his head and put them into Lil’ Cal, then send Lil’ Cal back in time so Dave’s eyes could stare at Dave while he used his computer. It would be a motherfucking miracle. 

Of course, he didn’t really want that. Dave’s red eyes reminded him of Faygo, and Dave’s glowing, bronze skin reminded him of Tavros’ brown, chocolate flavored blood. It was no wonder Terezi was enticed by him. Dave was delightfully delicious.  
He was intriguing. 

Dave rapped. Gamzee rapped. They could have rap-offs. Dave fought. Gamzee _flashstepped_. They could fight. Dave knew hardship. Gamzee most certainly knew hardship. They both understood.

And they both hated each other.

It fueled Gamzee’s desire to pursue a spades relationship with Dave. And it was exactly what he intended to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me feedback if you do read this. What was good, what was bad, what I could improve on, etc. I would like to improve my writing, so I'm literally all ears.


End file.
